


Freedom

by CelestialSymphony



Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-09
Updated: 2012-08-09
Packaged: 2017-11-11 18:31:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/481563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestialSymphony/pseuds/CelestialSymphony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Entry for HSO Round 2, team Davesprite<3Doomed!John</p>
            </blockquote>





	Freedom

You look at the piece of paper again, the fancy scroll work spelling out in not so specific terms that you have the full authority of the Church in your actions.  You scoff at that.  The Church is sanctioning you to do the very same thing that they are going to kill you for when you return.  Hunting down artifacts and creatures had sort of just landed in your lap and you were uncannily good at it.  But then you stepped on the toes of the wrong Cardinal and when he became Pope he declared you a heretic, had you excommunicated, and called for your capture and death.  If it hadn’t been for the mercy and compassion of an influential Mother Superior with piercing violate eyes and dark secrets of her own, you’d have been bled dry and your shriveled corpse left as an example to others.  As it was, you were now on a quest to utilize your talents and regain your soul in the service of God, only to return to the promise of a painful death by burning to cleanse your spirit fully and send it to heaven.

Your name is John Egbert and you are royally fucked.

The carriage jostles a bit as the driver turns off the main path and onto a less traveled road, the grasslands giving way to densely packed, gnarled trees.  A flash of lightning lights your blue eyes and shines off the silver coated hammer that sits loosely wrapped next to you, its sigils glowing faintly and the cogs around its edge gleaming, the small vials of holy water held tightly in their metal wheels.  At least they didn’t send you here completely defenseless.  At least someone had understood that you needed your tools to work.  As another flash casts grotesque shadows darting across the ground outside, you replay the mission briefing in your mind. 

Small town in the middle of fucking nowhere has been plagued by a beast of some sort that haunts a nearby ruin.  Anyone who has been foolish enough to venture close has disappeared save for two young men, one who came back stark raving mad and hung himself shortly after, and another who returned gravely wounded, but returned with a proper description of the beast and his dagger covered in its blood.  It was this liquid that found its way into a vial and several hundreds of miles away to save you from the Iron Maiden.  From the description that came with it, she was a harpy of some sort.  You’d hunted one or two in your career, though never one with blood this color.  In fact, you’d never seen a creature, natural or otherwise, with this color of blood.  It almost excites you enough to make you forget about your doom.  Almost.

The storm erupts just as you emerge from the tree line and into the clearing surrounding the town.  You glare out the window.  This is hardly even a town.  More like a village with a rickety timber wall surrounding it, hastily erected most likely in response to the creature.  A brighter flash of lightning and your eyes are drawn to an imposing stone structure on a hilltop nearby.  One turret looks to be in surprisingly good shape, but the rest of the masonry is in heaps of half broken walls and collapsed pylons.  Then the structure disappears behind sad wooden partitions as your carriage pulls up to what you can only hope is some poor sots house.

You’re wrong.  It’s the town hall slash tavern slash inn, and you’ve got the best room in the leaky attic.  Perfect.  You had every intention of showing up, taking care of the creature, and maybe trying to escape before the inquisitorial knights arrived the next night to make sure you met your fate either at the hands of this monster or by the flame.  Why they had given you a day ahead of them you can only chalk up to a certain captain of the royal knights nonchalantly mentioning that he liked the thrill of the hunt, the dangerous gleam in his emerald eyes reminding you of a cat eyeing a mouse.  Peering out the window, you gaze up to the broken ramparts on the hill.  A blaze of lighting and…wait.  You look closer.  Quickly you snuff the candle next to the bed and peer once more into the darkness that surrounds you.  Another white hot flash and sure enough, there is something up there.  Crimson and black.  You can faintly make out tattered fabric thrashing in the gale around an imposing figure.  Another flash and the creature rises, quickly and with such abnormal motions that you openly gawk as it rises to the top of the tower and disappears behind the bulwarks.  Without meaning to, you quickly touch your hand to your forehead, chest, and each shoulder in the sign of the cross before you berate yourself for such superstitious nonsense. 

You keep watch for another hour or so until the storm dies down before you reluctantly collapse onto the straw stuffed mattress, your hammer within reach lest you should be surprised in the night.  Even in your exhausted state, it is well past midnight before you allow your eyes to close, just as the rains begin their assault on the town once more.  Your dreams are troubled.  Memories dance behind your closed eyelids of chasing down creatures of terrible strength and cunning who feasted on the flesh of humans and cursed your name as you smote them from the earth and back to whatever dark realm they came from.  A particularly loud clap of thunder makes you jolt awake, but you remain still in your bed, the recollection of your surroundings and duties setting back in.  That’s when you feel it, a certain chill in the air and the uncanny feeling you’re being watched.  Registering your hammer is still within reach, you steady your breathing.

“John.”

 A Flash of lightning, crimson and black, a figure in the shadows.  Quicker than the flash outside you are on your feet and swinging, but there is only shadow, only darkness.  You search the room with a keen eye, the grip on your hammer never loosening until you are positive the room is empty save for you.  Checking the door and finding it secure still, you go to the window.  Peering out into the night, there is nothing but pitch black.  Then the lightning flashes and a face rears up, hallow fire eyes and a firm grimace and you rear back ready for a fight.  But then another flash and the only face is yours reflected back at you.  You check the window but it is secure as well.  This time it takes you longer to fall asleep, your hammer gripped in your hand tightly.  When you open your eyes again, morning has broken and there is a gentle tapping on your door.

“Sir,” Comes a soft voice, “Breakfast is ready.”

When you open the door, sliding the wooden bolt aside, you see that she is rather tall and well built.  Her lips are dark red to the point of almost being black and her ebony hair offsets her snow white skin, her black eyes showing the faintest gleam of jade.  She is beautiful indeed, and your abilities tell you she is capable of much more than she appears on the outside, though your senses tell you that her own peculiarities are, for the moment anyway, dormant.  Once you would have made sure to return to this village and keep an eye on her, but now you have one simple mission to complete and then the fires will take you.  The grim verdict settles on you as you poke at the food provided for you, not really eating much.  The heavy sound of boots and clanking metal causes you to turn your head even as a sarcastic voice announces a most annoying presence. 

“Blimey!  And here I was hoping you’d’ve been a good lad and run along so I could have a jolly good time hunting you down after dealing with the beastie on the hill.”

Jake.  You turn a frown as the knight shoulders his crossbow and winks at you.  You turn back to your food and push it away, your appetite completely gone.  When a heavy hand slams down on your shoulder it’s all you can do not to grab your hammer off the floor and swing it at the man’s head.  He chuckles as you tense up.

“Whoa there old boy,” then his voice is in your ear, the false cheeriness completely gone, “Don’t make me have to set up the pyre now.”

“Mother Lalonde wouldn’t approve,” you smirk as his grip tightens at the mention of the Mother Superior’s name.

“That black devil witch wouldn’t dare touch me,” sure enough you’ve struck a nerve.

“No,” you smirk as you reveal a bit of your own knowledge, “but the Inquisitor General she has enthralled has been itching to find conspirators within the royal knights.”

He withdraws his hand and takes a step back.  A rare smile cascades across your lips.  Standing, you grab your hammer and slide it into the holster on your belt.  Grabbing your teal long-coat, you toss the dyed leather across your shoulders, pushing your arms through the soft sleeves before turning to the grimly quiet captain.  As you pass him you turn your smile onto him and he flinches.

“Come on,” you fake as sickeningly sweet of a voice as you can muster, “We’ve got a monster to hunt!”

As you exit the ramshackle building, your smile quickly falls as you find a contingent of six other royal knights waiting for you and you falter.  Jake’s malicious chuckle from behind you spurs you on as you trudge past the other armor clad men who snicker and smirk as you pass.  They didn’t trust you enough to provide you with a horse so you and the band of certainly un-merry men behind you have to hoof it.  Just outside the town, the hillside slopes up steeply and though the thick trees help provide some grips and footholds, the going is slow.  Your hike isn’t at all aided by the thick fog that seems to cling to the hill itself.  It’s nearly noon when you come to a level spot where a small stream has cut its way through the trees and the captain calls for a brief respite. 

As the soldiers clamor for the water and to scarf down the meager rations they brought, you find a nice patch of moss and lean against a tree, determined to clear your mind.  After all, there’s supposedly a monster to deal with after this arduous hike and you need to be refreshed to face it.  You even your breathing, the smell of damp earth and the onset of fall permeating each and every particle of air that flows in and out of your lungs.

“John.”

Maybe it’s the sound of the wind in the trees.  Or the babbling of the brook.  Or maybe one of the idiots accompanying you is muttering about you.  But whichever reason, you could swear you heard your name.

“John.”

This time it definitely sounds like the rustling of dry leaves.  A new scent hits your nostrils and they flair in response.  It’s something warm and all together foreign in this area.  Like spice and heat and metal and…apples?  Your eyes comb over the mist laden hillside but there are too many shadows as the light shimmers between the thick clouds and nettles overhead to be sure any of them is real or simple tricks.  Again the voice comes as the wind blows through the foliage.

“John.”

“You call,” your response is but a whispered reply, but the voice seems to hum with satisfaction at it.

“John,” this time there is an almost pleading tone to the voice and an image forms in your mind like from a remembered dream.

Soft plaited locks of golden sunbeams.  You know they are soft and warm and that you’d burry your nose in them and smell sweet apples and dry leaves.  Skin the color of the setting sun, smooth as glass and cool to the touch, though not unpleasantly so.  Lips vibrant as dark glowing coals and you can taste the spice of his breath.  Him?  Yes, definitely male.  Those eyes, like jewels cut of the finest citrine.  The sudden vision takes your breath away and you sigh aloud.

You know this man, but you can’t recall exactly how.  You can feel the intimacy you’ve shared with him, but can recall bedding no such person.  The thought of him is like remembering a long lost best friend and you can’t help but smile and feel the stress and tension ease from your shoulders.  You know this man.

“Dave,” the name spills from your lips in a reverenced whisper, though it’s like you plucked the name from the air itself.

“John,” the voice hums happily in response.

“John,” this voice is harsh and demanding and you snap from your reverie, turning a stunned look to the intruder which quickly changes to annoyance, “Stop your daydreaming.”

You glare at Jake and quickly climb to your feet before you register the position of the sun.  It seems like you had only sat a moment but the sun beginning its fall from the sky tells you that nearly an hour has passed since you sat.  Cursing silently you take the lead and charge up the hill much to the complaint of your comrades.  You had hoped to reach the creature’s lair long before sunset as to try and catch it while you had the advantage of daylight.  When you finally reached the summit, the sun is touching its rim to the horizon casting long shadows across the broken fortress that lay before you.

Drawing your hammer from its sheath, you quickly and quietly pick your way across the ruins, your guards following with their own weapons drawn.  You stop when you find a bone bleached by the sun.  As you stoop to examine it, you note that it is in fact human and the nearly clean slice deep into the femur.  As the knights join you, they gasp and a few cross themselves as Jake gapes.

“By God, look at them all!”

Sure enough, fanning out from where you are crouched are many more bones and several nearly complete skeletons as well as several partially decomposing corpses, the bodies getting fresher the closer to the tower they get, culminating in a fresh, mangled corpse at the base of a shadowed archway.  You swallow hard and quietly pick your way through the rock and bone field.  As you approach the doorway, a sudden rush of wind and a scream send you dodging behind a rock pile as one of the knights rises high into the air quickly and then comes slamming to the ground with the gut-wrenching sound of rending flesh and splitting metal, blood spraying everywhere.  A blur of crimson and red and another scream as another soldier falls back to the earth in two completely separate halves.

“Inside!” You command as another knight is swept off screaming to the top of the tower, his cries cut short with a gurgling crunch. 

Jake follows you into the doorway as the other knights defy you and attempt to flee, each being torn asunder as before they can reach the tree line.  Inside the darkened ruin, you find yourself back to back with the shaking captain.  When a shadow crosses the doorway, you both spin and ready yourself.  The vast wingspan in itself is amazing, accompanied with the black swirling cloak alit by the fiery sunset.  No, wait.  That’s the creature’s skin.  Orange.  In its hand it holds a sword dripping with blood and where its feet should be is nothing but a wispy smoke.  With a cry of rage, the knight next to you tears off towards the figure.

“No!” You try to grab for him but it’s too late.

Clang!  Clang!  The winged figure easily parries the captain’s blows and then everything seems to stop as a slight silver gleam grows from the back of his head.  It’s only after the sword is withdrawn and Jake falls to his knees before crumpling to the ground dead do you register the killing blow.  In pure fury you rush the creature and swing your hammer.

THWIK!  WHUMP!  Your hammer is on the ground several feet away.  But you’re not dead, just frozen in shock.  Citrine eyes stair at you with a soft smile as the sword goes slack before clattering to the floor.  Suddenly warm arms are wrapped around you and a laugh shakes where your chest is pressed tightly to the cool orange skin and you bury your face into the golden mane, inhaling the scent of apples.

“Dave,” You breathe, “My oldest friend.  I knew you’d save me.”

He chuckles again and you pull away, “What?”

“Most people call me Death.”

You simply smile and press your lips to his, tasting the spice of his tongue as the fiery sun sets behind you.  You’re free.


End file.
